Mistress Of The Evil Forest - Case 203: Alien encounters.

This book features a slice-of-life style with minimal system presence, welcome to enjoy.[Theoretically, this system can target any cognitive being in the universe.][After selecting a target, the host will randomly acquire the target's skill level and talent.][When the target is of the same gender, skill experience acquisition speed +50%, skill level cap -50%.][When the target is of a different species, trigger 404 aura, skill experience acquisition speed +100%, instant death probability +99%.][After a failed targeting, the punishment mechanism is activated, halving the host's basic stats, entering an absolute weak state, and resetting skill levels.]Traversing into this world, Bai Chuan Ze Ping observes this problematic system, then looks at the top student and beautiful girl of the class...Hmm, perhaps... this classmate could be a fine learning companion.PS: This book is also known as “My Talent Comes from My Girlfriend.”

A great demon king who came from another world to conquer Earth. To save the Earth, Li Luyou could only first take care of this great demon king… a little girl proclaiming herself Her Imperial Princess.

- Description from Novelupdates

She was disfigured and her mother died an innocent death. A cup of poison wine was not enough to kill her and she had to die by plunging into burning flames! Before entering her next lifetime, she vowed to change history and get her revenge!

When she opened her eyes again, she was 13 again. Her mother had just passed and her father had yet remarried. To prevent history from repeating itself, she took careful steps.

However, she ended up discovering a 30-year-old mystery case that had been hidden all these while. She had been reborn as a beauty and was not going to give up on herself.

She was going to live out her best life with her alluring charms!

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.